


Taste

by sleepthief



Category: Lost Souls - Poppy Z. Brite
Genre: Bad Decisions, Multi, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-16 00:19:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11242341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepthief/pseuds/sleepthief
Summary: He had been on his own so long that he had forgotten what it tasted like.





	Taste

**Author's Note:**

> So, quite awhile ago I mentioned something about writing fanfiction (long time ago) and asked people what they’d like to see me write. I can’t find the post, but I remember a dear friend asking for something Poppy Z. Brite-ish. So here’s some lonesome, dramatic vampire Christian from the book ‘Lost Souls’.

He had been on his own so long that he had forgotten what it tasted like. Food, drink; neither needed to sustain his body like they used to. He was different now. He had been different for so long. Every day people visited his bar - old faces, new faces, the painted faces of the young morbids and the natural faces of those who didn’t have a purpose in life. He shouldn’t have been lonely. And he didn’t think he was. Until THEY showed up. Rowdy bunch of rabble-rousers, more trouble than they were worth - beautiful disasters of blood and alcohol and dark things, ripping right through the very core of him.

As he sat at a polished table of the bar, his pale hand resting next to a large bottle of chartreuse, Christian swallowed. His thoughts were not all there, scattered on the wind like ashes. Zillah…

Zillah

_Zillah_

How Christian ached to taste again: the chartreuse of his eyes and the honey of his hair with the green and purple candy stripes. The rich copper of his blood.

A glass shattered.

And only then did the ashes congregate into something larger again, something sentient. Christian blinked, the palm of his hand shredded with shards of crystal. His dark blood mixing with the toxic green alcohol on the table. He had forgotten what it tasted like.

Dipping down, Christian licked at the camarilla of liquids, tasting salt and sweetness and a bitter burn on the sharp pain of splitting his tongue open. Nothing good would come of meeting with Zillah and his companions. Wiping his chin clean from his own blood, Christian realised this with full clarity.

But he couldn’t help longing for it either way.


End file.
